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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28965558">If you wish hard enough</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinnabonka/pseuds/sinnabonka'>sinnabonka</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Something about birthdays [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Supernatural</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>15x20 coda, Castiel/Dean Winchester First Kiss, Coda, Dean Winchester's Birthday, Dean gets a chance to speak his truth, First Kiss, Fix-It, It’s a gift you keep those, Love Confessions, M/M, Of course Cas comes back, he always does</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 07:01:26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,330</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28965558</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinnabonka/pseuds/sinnabonka</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean’s never been one to expect gifts from anyone, let alone God himself, but today he's gotten the best gift he could ever wish for.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Castiel/Dean Winchester</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Something about birthdays [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2179914</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>37</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>255</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>If you wish hard enough</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Every day is Dean Winchester’s day in this house, but yeah, I wish my boy a happy birthday and lots of lovely moments with Cas. They are both alive and thriving. Haven’t you heard?</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Dean wakes up to a gentle caress on his cheek. It feels nothing like Miracle's wet slimy wake up call that's become a part of his daily morning routine. He jolts when he feels it, hands scavenging his sheets for his gun.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The emptiness under the pillow makes Dean’s guts flip, but his mind keeps searching for options. He remembers there’s a pen knife hidden in his boot under the bed, a demon blade in the jacket hanging on the doorknob, plus, there is always a lamp on the nightstand he could effectively fling. Instead, running the numbers, he decides first to shed some light onto the scene, and paws his way to the switch and flips it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He winces when the white dim light floods the room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As his eyes refocus, he blinks, mouth falling open. Swallowing, his throat clenches around the fragment of a sound ready to escape. His fists ball on the comforter on both sides of his thighs as his stomach careens into the endless and weightless feeling of falling. The light is weak, the outlines it draws are smudged and blurry.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hello, Dean.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The room floor tilts like a ship deck in a storm, and Dean finds himself grasping on solid surfaces of the furniture in a rushed attempt to get out of the bed. His lungs ache at the lack of air to fill them up. Dean makes one unsure step, then another. His knees buckle, but with the last ounce of strength he forces himself to stay upright.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He reaches out to what </span>
  <em>
    <span>has to be</span>
  </em>
  <span> a ghost, because what else can it be, and as he does, his fingers are trembling. A hopeful thought struggles, drowning in the white noise inside his skull.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then there’s a touch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cas.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean chokes on the word, the one he kept whispering in the middle of the night for the last few months trying to speak it into existence. The name he was too broken and hurt to say out loud knowing the sound of it would defeat him if he did. The name he was sure he was never meant to say again looking into those familiar and blue eyes, now staring back at him, expecting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cas,” he repeats, finally finding the solid ground. His voice is low and trembling, but unlike all the times he’s been sobbing it half asleep, his voice is not hollow anymore. It may be a bit too emotional than Dean cares to admit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hello,” the ghost repeats with an unsure smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” Dean says back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s just a moment before an unknown force pushes him forward. His hands fly, touching, grasping, pulling in. Dean abruptly exhales as the air gets punched out of him in a single moment when their chests collapse against each other. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cas,” he whispers, burying his face into the crack of Cas’ neck.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The wrinkled fabric of the trench coat under his palm feels real, so does the warm, soft skin under the pressure of his cheek and the hand slipping up to rest across his back in comforting circles.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Please be real.</span>
  </em>
  <span> He squeezes his eyes shut and allows a single loud sob escape his lungs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m here,” says Cas, but Dean is not sure if he hears it or feels the vibration of the voice, pressing too hard to the source of it. “I’m right here, Dean. It’s alright now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t think I’d see you again. I thought the Empty…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Some things are beyond their control,” Cas says with a smile, before pulling away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But why?” Dean shakes his head at the way the question sounds and asks instead: "How?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jack says hi,” Cas smiles knowingly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s a short moment of silence between them, a moment of long-awaited comfort and relief, and Dean’s afraid to spoil it with words. He leans in closer and lets both his hands rest on Cas’ shoulders. He catches himself thinking that if he lets go, looks away or blinks too slowly, Cas is going to disappear, dissolve into nothingness, leaving him alone in the dim light of the bedroom.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He slowly shakes his head, staring into Cas’ eyes, as if gathering the fuel for his own bravery. He clears his throat before speaking up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I need to say something,” he starts, each word weighed and measured. “Last time you bailed on me and didn’t give me a chance to, so now I’m gonna jump straight to the...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dean, I…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Goddammit, Cas, let me finish. I’m not the talking kind, you know that. This one is long due.” He clears his throat again, though it’s nothing physical he can simply cough out. Dean tries again: “I need to say it, okay? I never thought I’d get a chance, I’m still not sure I’m not daydreaming over a book or something.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cas looks as if he was about to interrupt him again, but never does.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I promised myself that if I ever see you again, it would be the first thing I say, okay? No maybe laters, no tomorrows, just here, now, a’right? Last time it took Thee Death literally knocking at the door for one of us to speak up.” Dean swallows, out of breath. “That’s not happening again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cas’ eyebrows raise, but he stays respectfully silent.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not losing you again, you hear me? So you gotta cut this self-devotion-take-me-instead crap. From now on, none of that. Clear?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cas nods, not sure if he still is not allowed to speak. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good,” Dean says with a dead serious expression etched across his face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His heart is loud inside his chest, the even thuds echoing through his temples. He can’t think of what he’s doing even for a split second or he’ll find a thousand and one excuses not to. And he can’t afford it, not this time. His hand lands on the back of Cas’ neck and he inches closer, suddenly short of breath.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dean...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shut up,’ he huffs, freezing for a moment with his eyes glued to Cas’ mouth. He licks his own lips, he curses silently, and comes the rest of the way in one movement.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When their lips meet, Dean shakily exhales and sinks into the kiss. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you,” he whispers against Cas’ mouth, as if just hearing it was not enough, as if Cas had to taste the sincerity of those words to believe them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you,” he repeats into the kiss, and he misses the moment when Cas’ hands wrap around him and press them together firmly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you, dumbass,” he smirks, “and I am not losing you again. You hear me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course,” Cas answers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It takes them another few minutes before they break away. Breathless, blushed, they look at each other with unmistakable fondness.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What time is it?” Cas asks suddenly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean looks over his shoulder on the clock, but for a moment can’t make out the numbers jumping under his blurry vision.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ten past midnight,” he says finally, and follows with, “Why? Gotta be home before you turn into a pumpkin?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Happy birthday, Dean,” Cas says, instead of reflecting on the joke, and plants another quick kiss on Dean’s lips. “Jack asked to wish you a happy birthday, too, and to remind you that if you wish hard enough for something, it’s sure to come true. I guess it was him…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Dean interrupts, his face warming up, “Yeah, I know what that's about.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He rests his forehead against Cas’, eyes squeezed shut, and thinks of how it took him forty two years to finally take his first full breath. He's never been one to expect gifts from anyone, let alone God himself, but today he's gotten the best gift he could ever wish for. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you too,” Cas whispers, and Dean’s heart sings to it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He smiles at the thought of how later today, when he will be blowing out candles on his birthday cake, he will have nothing left to wish for.</span>
</p>
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